This is going to be the saddest, least blogpostiest blog post you have ever seen from me. This week has kicked my ass sideways. I don’t know if I’m coming or going. I’m so exhausted that the following thing ACTUALLY REALLY HAPPENED last night:
I went to see Wicked (more on that in a bit) and parked in my usual place, which is NOT the fancy, safe, nice parking garage, because it takes a YEAR to get out of that parking garage after a show and I have no patience at all, but is the parking lot behind the YMCA. Which isn’t UNSAFE, but it’s not protected by a lady in a booth or anything, you know? Plus it’s the parking lot where the man came up to me with a riding crop that time and asked me if I’d been bad and needed to be punished.
So I parked the car in what I think was the last remaining spot (lots of people came to see Wicked and lots of people know that parking garage is a nightmare to escape from, no, seriously, one time I was in there for over half an hour JUST TRYING TO GET OUT OF MY SPOT, it’s that bad, last night I was already home by the time friend R. texted me she’d gotten out of the garage) and the minivan next to me didn’t even stay in the lines, which I hate (why can’t you park in the lines, people? It’s not like they’re INVISIBLE lines. They’re right THERE) and so I squished in and then ran off the couple blocks to the theater texting friend R. gleefully I was on my way.
Then after intermission my lips, much like Napoleon Dynamite’s, hurt REAL BAD, but without my brother to refuse to bring me a Chapstick, I’d have to find my own, so I went into my purse to find my lip gloss which is HELPFULLY attached to my keys and could not find it.
Well, thought I. This is confusing. My keys are always on top in my purse. What could be happening here?
Then I thought, huh. Remember when you were walking away from the car and you were all, “I don’t remember clicking the lock button, did I click the lock button as I walked away, I must have, I always do?” DID YOU EVEN HAVE YOUR KEYS?
So Act II was spent alternately enjoying the show and imagining the poor Taurus in a chop shop. Are those still things? Chop shops? Or just something I’m remembering from Adventures in Babysitting?
So after the show and a sad goodbye with friend R., who is moving away soon and I will probably never see again, so that was our first and last adventure together (sorry I was all distractedy, friend R., I’m usually a better time, promise! Blame the lack of sleep, that’s what I’ve been doing all week!) I walked kind of all doom-and-gloomy back to the parking lot, thinking, “ok, so you call AAA if it’s not there and you say, ‘um…someone stole my car, I guess, HA HA, how did this HAPPEN?’ and then you totally have an extra house key stashed in your purse because you are a PLANNER, Amy.”
Car was still there. Sitting there, unlocked, with the keys swinging in the ignition. No one had even touched it.
I have never done something that boneheaded in all my life. Well, no, that’s not even true. I’ve done a LOT of boneheaded things. But nothing that could cause me to be the victim of automobile theft. To be the WILLING VICTIM of automobile theft. Good grief.
(Also, I have probably used up my good karma for the year. And THANK YOU, thieves of Schenectady, for not being on the ball the other night. Much appreciated. I’m a delicate flower and not at all cut out for public transportation.)
Then I got home, and I wrote the review (it was good, of course it was, it was Wicked, I mean, unless no one could sing and they did some sort of weird creative casting or something, how could it not be good?) and then I tried to fall asleep but I was way too keyed up and I’m overtired so I’m having a lot of trouble sleeping and I have a lot of things in my head that are all “HA HA NO SLEEP FOR YOU” and it’s been a shitty week. Did I mention it’s been a shitty week? It totally has.
Oh, the show? The show was great. We had excellent seats – about, oh, I don’t know, say 14 rows back or something? Right on the aisle. I’ve only seen a couple of shows there with those kind of seats and I can assure you they weren’t BROADWAY shows, they were teeny-tiny things like the time a Shakespeare play came to town and no one wanted to see it so I got front-row seats. I got to see everything from the front for once, because usually I buy the cheap side seats so I don’t see what’s happening on half of the stage. I loved the show, I loved the performances, I was super-happy (although I cried a lot for someone super-happy; the songs in Wicked make me weepy, it’s a thing that happens, and then some songs that NORMALLY DON’T make me weepy were hitting me the wrong way that night so I was all a weepy mess, but I was quiet about it so hopefully I didn’t bother friend R. too much) and it was so nice to see it with friend R. because I will miss her so much when she’s gone.
Here is a HAPPIER song from Wicked, and it’s the one (strangely) I can’t get out of my head today – not even my favorite one, just the one I’ve been singing all day long:
The people in front of us stood up a lot and also arrived late from intermission so kept blocking our view. The person in back of us came back from intermission with what sounded like a jumbo bag of chips or something, and then proceeded to eat it with his or her face (perhaps a slight exaggeration, but that’s what it sounded like) like a wolverine until I turned around and gave the polite theater-person glare and they sighed and stopped. PEOPLE. This isn’t a picnic or a concert. IT’S LIVE THEATER. The seats we were in cost like $165, had we paid for them. SHUT UP and SIT DOWN and STOP EATING LIKE A HOG IN A TROUGH.
At intermission, someone walked by our row and said, “someone in this row has the BEST LAUGH” and apparently that was me. I don’t know if she was being sarcastic or not. I apologized for being loud but she said it was “great” so I guess she was genuinely being nice. Thanks, lady! It’s just my mouth, it does what it wants, much like a honey badger.
At one point, one of the actors played a goat and his horn fell off and flew across the stage all clattery and the first thing I thought was, whoa, THAT’S embarrassing, and the second thing I thought was, well, I’ll have to tell Ken, because as you know:
I had a crush on Fiyero. As I do. I loved Elphaba. As I do. I actually really liked Glinda this time; I usually don’t. I still want to stab the wizard in the stupid face.
Also, as we were walking in, the OTHER local paper asked me and R. if they could take our photos, and they took a billion photos of us and got our names, so I think it’s ironic that we’re going to be in the “Were you SEEN at Wicked?” section in the competing paper when I was there as a paid guest of the OTHER local paper. Ha! (It’s not there yet. I’ll let you know when it is. Or, maybe I won’t. Maybe I look like a crazy, I don’t know.)
OK. This isn’t the SHORTEST or SADDEST blog post you’ve ever gotten. Maybe tomorrrow’s will be, who knows. I have to get to work, then run straight to the theater so I can watch The Shape of Things, then I have to go to bed for work and get up and work all day and then run home and try to write another one of these and then get up at 5:30am on Sunday to work for 7.5 hours and then I get like a little over a day off so that will be nice.
I had the best spam earlier but WordPress keeps eating my posts so now it’s missing and I’m total sadface. It was like, Greetings, men! You are luckiest if you like ladies. Italian ladies are best mates companions. Come and have some! And I giggled for like a month. It was funnier when THEY said it. FUCK YOU WORDPRESS STOP CRASHING MY BLOG. Also, there’s a store near work that says “Bears Weddings” in the window (they sell bears and cater weddings, I assume? I don’t know) and it made me think they have bear weddings in there and then I snort-laughed so hard I almost hit the guy in the lane next to me thinking of bear weddings.
Remind me to tell you about the cat who needed a sex change operation. And the cane-sword-guy. And the strip club. And The Shape of Things. Those are all important things.
Love your faces, yo. Send me sleepy vibes, I’m so effing tired.